


Ave Imperatrix, Morituri te Salutant

by Sharyrazade



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Canon Bisexual Character(s), Canon Compliant, Character Study, Class Issues, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crucifixion, Cultural Differences, Depression, During Canon, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Emotional Constipation, Execution, Fear of Abandonment, Gaslighting, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Guilt, Historical References, Jealousy, Literary References & Allusions, Loss of Trust, Loyalty, Manipulative Relationship, Master/Servant, Mental Health Issues, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Narcissism, One-Sided Attraction, Painting, Past Child Abuse, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD?, Pre-Relationship, Pride, Pyromania, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Shakespeare, Sadism, Self-Worth Issues, Torture, Tragedy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22308898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade
Summary: A snippet of certain decisive moments in the lives of Petra, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta, and Dorothea where they find their friend's reign as Adrestian Emperor to have much in common with sausage- if one likes the idea of either, one should not witness them being made.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra (one-sided), Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth (one-sided), Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 44





	1. Breaker of Chains

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Proper (?) Reunion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171189) by [Sharyrazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade). 



> An expansion on something that was originally little more than a throwaway subplot in my other Three Houses drabble collection. The title, is of course, chosen very deliberately, it's also me being a language/history nerd.  
> Anyway, when I write...not so nice (to say the very least) monarchs in this series, I seem to have developed a liking for having them take a number of rather grandiose-sounding titles. Again, very common historically, but for someone in question, her alter ego/original already has a ton of titles anyway.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While treating her and her grandfather to a beachfront dinner, Petra learns fairly quickly that Edelgard's visit to Brigid is no friendly diplomatic mission- the crosses her carpenters had erected on the beach were a testament to this fact.

_"Peace through strength."_ the rather neutral-sounding voice of Edelgard rang in Petra's ears. _"Or failing that, peace through threat."_

And this was quite the threat, she forced herself to admit. How else could one really interpret Edelgard treating both her and Grandfather to dinner, but also to witness the crosses she'd had her carpenters erect on the beach throughout the day, the local chiefs (for some offense or another- factual or not) hunted down and lashed to said implements in various painful fashions? Gods knew her grandfather had attempted to spare her from such a spectacle, but the emperor insisted ( _"It will be just like old times."_ ) upon her presence.

"Would you like some more wine, Petra?" inquired Edelgard, disarming as the situation would allow. "Hubert assures me that his family's vineyards are the finest in the Empire."

"Thank you, but no." answered Petra, polite but terse. "I am having no hunger."

The elderly man shared his granddaughter's apprehension at the situation, already taking notice of several lifelong friends of his among the wretched dying and dead. "You are most generous, Your Grace." he lied neutrally.

Edelgard raised one of those snowy-white eyebrows, as though noticing something amiss. "Is something troubling you, Raqmu?"

The old king sighed, the lines on his normally-vital face seeming more apparent than usual. "Your Grace, in Brigid, such matters are generally...done privately." Raqmu informed gingerly. "No matter what their crime may be."

Not unlike the dual-headed bird of prey adorning her cape (and many other of her effects), Edelgard was quick to notice the weakness in her vassal's tone. "Recall the terms of the treaty giving the Empire the right- no, the duty- to punish your subjects who act against us. I believe conspiring to assassinate my generals falls under said actions." she reminded harshly. "The treatment of the chiefs was no crime, Raqmu. You'd be wise to remember that."

The Emperor took another sip of her wine. "Unless of course, you'd care to join them on one of those crosses."

Her grandfather sufficiently cowed by said threat, Petra spoke up at last. "Edelgard...please."

Edelgard scowled in Petra's general direction. "Petra, be quiet about matters that do not concern you." she warned. "Much like my- the Empire, I can be both merciful and cruel. And you've already tested the former."

Oh, but such matters DID concern her, Petra thought angrily. Her duty was to the people and land of Brigid- to keep them as reasonably secure in mind, spirit, and body as possible- to make them reasonably secure that their ultimate fates were not to hang out to die in the harsh sun so much like the dried flesh of beasts. _"But you have forgotten that, no?"_

If this was what Edelgard's "mercy" looked like- to pollute her country's most serene, often-sacred natural features with the wretched, anguished bodies of the dying and dead, purely to send a message- it was a mercy for which she was having progressively less tolerance as time wore on. Despite what her command of the spoken language of the continent would suggest to some, Petra was no naive child. She knew fully well that politics and diplomacy was a dangerous, sometimes-bloody game. And the sheer ease- almost like breathing for her- with which Edelgard switched between offering her more drink and threatening to crucify her grandfather out on the beach, left Petra to seriously wonder what their relationship- especially since their time at Garreg Mach- was really like.


	2. The Unburnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard's invitation of Ferdinand to the crucifixion of his father's right-hand man is a rather strong message- one he understands immediately. To say nothing in the conversation which ends in a not-so-veiled threat to burn him alive should he betray her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the incident that actually inspired me to expand upon this whole little project.

_"An iron fist in a velvet glove."_ thought Ferdinand, the imperial guards leading him past the gaunt, sentenced laborers, wincing at the cracking of the whips against weary, sun-baked flesh. That had always been Edelgard's style, he reminded himself. Well, lately, he'd come to liken it to a pair of iron fists, the velvet glove alternating between them- every mercy was to be sandwiched in between two (or more) cruelties. He'd witnessed this personally after the fall of Garreg Mach- expressed in ways that still haunted his nightmares.

In spite of all of the imperial lives he and others had taken under the Professor's command and by his side, Edelgard, whether out of realpolitik or out of her twisted respect-cum-affection for their teacher, as an example of her policy, offered a general amnesty for those surrendered peacefully...and were fortunate enough to be Adrestian citizens. This little technicality did not escape the notice of the students hailing from the north and east of the continent, particularly once the slaughters of the non-Adrestian prisoners ( _"Ma'am, there's no possible way we can feed and house all of these prisoners."_ informed one imperial general in a very matter-of-fact tone.) began in earnest- in covering the escape of their fellows, from a distance, Ferdinand had also witnessed Prince Dimitri, Dedue, and Felix cut down an almost inhuman number of imperial soldiers before being forced to withdraw into the forests north of the monastery. While distraught and absolutely furious over the disappearance of her beloved lady, Catherine was obligated by circumstance to perform a similar service as the knights were driven east- whether by design or apathy from the very top, the monks, nuns, and especially the Knights of Seiros received the worst treatment as a rule. He'd witnessed more knights and monks executed (more like murdered, he thought) with molten lead or metal poured in any number of orifices than he'd ever cared to see or hear.

Even Edelgard's diplomacy showed signs of this. Much with the other house leaders, despite Claude's insistence that their defensive lines were untenable, Lorenz, so outraged by the emperor's breaches in custom, insisted upon covering the retreat of those hailing from Leicester with his men. However, despite his personally ending the lives of quite a few imperial soldiers also, Edelgard, ever the calculating one, insisted that the Gloucester heir be taken alive. This would seem rather counterintuitive until the following evening when she invited Lorenz to dine with she and Hubert, having ordered the courtyard just outside the dining hall to be turned into a charnel house beforehand, both master and servant getting a smug sense of self-satisfaction at the prim and proper nobleman's expression contorting in horror at the sounds, smells, and occasional sights of his own men and monastery staff being butchered- if not tortured- just outside the dining hall. ( _"I look forward to a long period of fruitful cooperation between the Empire and the Alliance."_ remarked Edelgard, taking a sip of her wine.) And this of course, excluded the prisoners of war who simply vanished mysteriously for whatever reason. Ferdinand had no knowledge of that part, but recalled Edelgard ordering her imperial guards rather explicitly to retrieve someone relatively unscathed, making graphic threats as almost-certain consequence for violations. This did not strike him as particularly strange until a conversation with her uncle, Lord Arundel, in which he smugly remarked upon "our new test subject," a exchange which made his blood run cold.

Needless to say, even her erstwhile classmates, particularly himself, were not immune to this "hospitality" either. Edelgard von Hresvelg may have been many (ninety percent of them Ferdinand had the courtesy- or sense- to keep to himself) things, but stupid could not be called one of them. She deliberately planned her invitations to them to coincide with her soldiers doing away with troublesome individuals. And not even swift, fairly clean deaths, but gruesome, torturous executions plotted along their routes to the dining hall. He'd never spoken a word of it to anyone, but that experience had given him a true and visceral hatred for crucifixion. But perhaps the worst part of the invitation was the delicate Bernadetta at his side, "encouraged" by the imperial guards to look upon the anguished, butchered corpses of the knights impaled on pikes- and knowing there was nothing he could do to help the situation or even comfort her.

He understood fully well that the duty of a noble- any public servant, really- sometimes took on some...less-than-pleasant aspects, particularly when concerning matters of justice. But as Ferdinand and his retinue witnessed the poor bastards lashed to crosses and stakes, their shattered arms unable to support their body weight any longer as they gasped for increasingly-scarce breath, he was forced to wonder: Did Edelgard enjoy this on some level? Did meting out this treatment to her enemies, real and imagined, make her feel powerful? Righteous even?

Nonetheless, Ferdinand put it out of his mind as he and his retinue approached their imperial counterpart. The last thing he needed was to be lost in thoughts- or showing weakness. "Ah, Ferdinand, you came." said Edelgard disarmingly, her tone still having an edge to it. "I would have thought you would be more hesitant after that business with your father."

"Oh, perish the thought, Your Majesty!" insisted Ferdinand, perhaps too enthusiastically. "When the throne calls, House Aeigr answers as always! Besides, it was a new experience for me, writing letters requesting clemency."

"Well, your filial piety is to be commended." she replied, a hint of a smirk ghosting across her lips. "It is one of our most important virtues, after all."

Hubert then smiled one of his uniquely-disturbing smiles. "For all the nobles present, I do believe our little presentation will be a show to remember, will it not, milady?"

"I agree completely, Hubert."

He'd only encountered the man in passing, true; the former Lord Aeigr was rather skilled at compartmentalizing the shadier side of his work. But Ferdinand could recognize the poor, miserable bastard being led up to the foot of the hill in chains- bruised, beaten black and blue, and with open sores and wounds barely hidden by his tattered clothing, the man's green eyes, formerly proud and vibrant, now could only beg for some mercy or another.

"Lord Flavius, right hand to the former Duke Aeigr." introduced Edelgard for him, disgust evident in her tone. "Your crimes and corruptions are legion, known to all."

"P-p-please, Your M-majesty!" stammered Flavius. "I was only f-following orders!"

The Emperor held up one of her gauntleted hands, as if either to silence the disgraced noble or seal his fate. "Enough of your excuses." she said sternly. "I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, First of Her Name, Adrestian Emperor, Protector of All Humanity, The Unburnt, Breaker of Chains, _Augusta Invicta_ , and Bringer of Light, sentence you to die. But fret not. You'll have your sons to keep you company, as well."

"N-no, p-please!" begged Flavius. "I b-beg of you, Your Majesty-"

"Deal with him as you see necessary."

The gathered nobles, Ferdinand included, winced as the soldiers began to savagely beat Flavius, a man looking as though he'd one foot in the grave already. After a good minute of this treatment, one of the soldiers "helped" the middle-aged man to his feet, while two of his fellows bought a great wooden cross and dropped it onto his shoulders. An implement with which he struggled greatly.

"Alright, let's go." sneered the first soldier, genuine hatred apparent in his tone. "Walk!"

A second soldier snickered evilly, testing his whip in between his hands. "This should help."

Again, the nobles winced as the whip came in contact with Flavius' skin, all finding it very difficult to turn away from the bloody spectacle. The group of soldiers forcing the man to walk up the hill through varying levels of abuse were shortly joined by another trio of victims- presumably Flavius' sons and a group of soldiers. Disturbed as he was, Ferdinand still had the presence of mind to discuss something with his old classmate, by now looking very pleased with the looks of horror and fear on the faces of the gathered nobles. "Your Majesty..." he said seriously. "Edelgard- a word, if you would?"

The Emperor rolled her violet eyes. "Of course." she replied tersely. "What is troubling you?"

"This spectacle...all of it. Is it really...well, necessary?"

"You deny the crimes committed by your father and Flavius?"

Ferdinand felt his heart leap into his throat. "Again, perish the thought! Exploiting the people is the worst crime a noble can commit! However, all this...it simply leaves a poor taste in my mouth. I mean, of course, he should be executed, but-"

"I will answer injustice with justice, Ferdinand."

 _"Justice?!"_ thought Ferdinand incredulously. _"Where's the justice in this?! There's nothing noble or queenly about this! This is nothing more than sadistic, self-righteous butchery!"_

"Ferdinand," Edelgard resumed, her tone softer than it had been perhaps all day. "do you recall the struggles of the Empire under Manuel I and Heraclius?"

"That I do." he confirmed. "from 400 until about two centuries later, it nearly broke the Empire in two."

"And why was that?"

"Because the noble clans could not put their pride and old rivalries aside."

"Precisely. The stakes were too high and no one wanted to compromise. It only ended once Heraclius' house completely exterminated Manuel's. I- we cannot afford for that to happen again."

"I agree completely, Edelgard."

The Emperor turned to face him,"Then make me a promise." Edelgard demanded, her tone betraying an uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Swear this to me, Ferdinand, that if you ever think I'm failing the people or the Empire, you won't conspire behind my back. You'll look me in the eye and tell me as you have done today and you'll tell me how I'm failing them."

A brief flash of the old, prideful spark returned to the young noble's expression. "I swear to you, on the honor of the name Ferdinand von Aegir, that I vow to do my noble duty and tell you if I feel you are failing the empire and her people." promised Ferdinand.

Imperial regalia adorning her body, the emperor retained a stony, utterly-serious countenance. "And I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, swear this-" she began. "If you ever betray me- betray the Empire, I'll burn you alive."

It took Ferdinand a second to process what exactly had been said and the implications thereof. But one thing was made exceptionally clear to him. With how elastic the wording in Edelgard's vow was- in truth, her threat- there was no way that he could remain in the Empire safely. And given her casual reference to one of Ardrestia's oldest, most destructive blood feuds, it was reasonable to assume that his mere presence was putting the lives of the other members of the Aegir family in mortal danger.

But where exactly could he go? He'd more than a few uncles, aunts, and cousins abroad, but the situation with the war made their residences far from stable destinations, especially Faerghus. Sadly, the one man he would have turned to without a second thought- perhaps the one man capable of actually stopping Edelgard- was nowhere to be found after the Battle of Garreg Mach. Still, the worst thing he could do would be to panic, Ferdinand reminded himself. Edelgard had eyes and ears everywhere and the absolute last thing he needed was to make a foolish mistake. After all, Hubert's mantra of _"show me the man, and I'll show you the crime, Lady Edelgard"_ had proven to be very effective so far.


	3. Protector of All Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar's disgust with the two men he'd formerly idolized- and their emperor- becomes overwhelming to the headstrong warrior, ending in a massive fight with his father, mother, and elder brother. Unable to serve the Empire any longer, Caspar, with only a hatchet, a change of clothes, and some gold, sets out for parts unknown, only to be accosted by an old classmate on the outskirts of Enbarr...

_"I knew, I knew, I KNEW I should never have sent you to that academy with those fanatics! Filling your head with all this nonsense about 'justice' and 'evil!"_

_"Yeah, like you would know evil if it bit you on your on your nose, old man! Or should I say put a medal on your chest for killing all those unarmed people!"_

_"If you had any sense, boy, you'd close your mouth before I close it for you! And I should for an outburst like that!"_

_"No! Janos, please! You don't mean that!"_

_"Be quiet, Maria! This doesn't concern you! This is the business of House Bergliez."_

_"My son and husband are screaming these awful things at each other! Of course it's my business!"_

_"Your SECOND son. Worry not, Mother. You have another."_

_"Hey, shut up and stay out of this, Henrik! You've got innocent blood on your hands like the old man too! I know you're doing anything you can to get in good with Edelgard- it'd look just awesome to have the heir to the throne be half-Bergliez, huh?"_

_"Well, someone has to look after the family name while you're off tilting at windmills, little brother. So what if some dirty Faerghus peasants have to die for it? It's a reasonable sacrifice."_

_"You sound even worse than Father now! And take it from the guy who spent nearly anentire year with her- you're not her type. She's always been kind of a cold bitch-"_

_"You ungrateful little-!"_

Before either father or son, both rather hot-headed by nature, could appreciate what exactly was transpiring, Caspar found himself knocked on his backside, his cheek and bloody nose stinging considerably. "If our station and duty to the Empire means this little to you," continued Janos, the fury in his eyes apparent. "then why don't you just leave?!"

"Oh, yeah?!" challenged Caspar as he picked himself up. "I think I will!"

"Good! See how long you survive out there without our family name to keep you out of trouble!"

"I don't need it! I'd rather be a common mercenary than a noble butcher!"

Caspar storming off to his own room without another word, Maria, appropriately enough for a woman who had been watching her world fall apart for some months now, was absolutely devastated, begging and pleading with her son to reconsider as he packed some gold and meager effects into a rucksack. "I'm sorry, mom." he said gingerly, placing a hatchet on his belt. "What Father and she want me- what they have me doing- is wrong. I can't be a part of it."

On the verge of tearing up, Maria embraced her son for dear life. "Just be safe, Caspar."

"I will, I promise. I'll write the first chance I get."

Departing from the family's manor in a silent huff under the dark of night, Caspar seethed at the obstinacy of the two men he'd once idolized. He was unsure of where exactly he was going or what exactly he was going to do once he got there and he fully admitted that he may not have been the sharpest blade on the rack; but if the choice was between his noble title and privilege and his soul, it was no contest.

For the largest city on the continent, Enbarr at this time of night was oddly- almost unnaturally- quiet. Perhaps this was due to Caspar being lost in his own indignant thoughts or a genuine lack of activity on the streets of the noble district. But by the time he'd reached the outskirts of the city, Caspar could not shake the sensation of somehow being watched. "So you're leaving as well?" inquired an unusually-neutral toned voice.

Caspar felt his heart leap into his throat at the familiarity of the voice, its owner's violet eyes boring into him. "It sure seems that way." he answered, hellbent on not showing any weakness, exactly as he had before her minion earlier.

Reclining against a windowpane, Edelgard corrected her stance. "Unfortunate, but I won't attempt to stop you, if that's what you wish to do." she replied. "Even after everything I've done for you- done for your family."

Caspar was absolutely dumbfounded by the statement, taking a couple of moments to formulate a response. "After everything you've done FOR us?" he replied, taking care not to let out the simmering rage he felt.

"Of course. Just for your generation alone? Most young noblemen would kill their own grandmothers to have even a fraction of the audiences I've granted your brother. And you, Caspar? You are FAR more fortunate than most who murder imperial soldiers."

"That I'VE murdered?! What about those poor Gloucester bastards you and my father had rounded up and slaughtered? They weren't even soldiers! They were peasants!"

The emperor placed her forehead in between her thumb and index finger, as if to signify her annoyance with the man. "Brigands, rebels, terrorists, or what have you." Edelgard continued. "They must move among the people like fish swim in the sea- so the logical course of action, is to drain the sea. Lord Janos and your brother can see that as well. And besides, I believe you did your part in offering me heads from them as well."

_"Oh, Goddess...so much blood..."_ Caspar recalled. In the heat of battle he could generally look past such things, but with peasants- innocents caught up in the wrong place and time? He and Edelgard were never particularly close during their school days, but he'd never exactly had anything bad to say about her either. Now, her very presence was eliciting a feeling that he'd never associated with her previously- pure and visceral disgust. "Edelgard!" he exclaimed, a noticeable vein bulging in his forehead. "Really?! You don't see the difference?! Between soldiers in a battle and those poor bastards bound on their knees? There's a world of difference!"

"Unfortunate, but such things are unavoidable in war. You simply have to trust me- it's for all of our own good. As emperor, I have a duty to see this through. Just as you have a duty to carry out my orders. After all, how are you going to get strong enough to be of use without my counsel?"

"You really think because you and the Empire are strong, that gives you- us the right to treat people like this just because they're weaker? What's the point in being strong if you're just going to use it to prey on people weaker than you?! That's no different than a common bandit!"

It passed almost immediately- he had actually scolded himself for being reckless enough to even think it later- but for a moment there, Caspar had seriously considered taking the hatchet from his belt and driving it into Edelgard's throat. _"How many people's lives could I save if I just took this hatchet-?"_ No, that would be suicide; any previous respect he may have had for her may have been draining away at a rapid pace, but Caspar was still sensible enough to recognize Edelgard was far stronger than he was. And wherever Edelgard was, that creepy fuck Hubert could not be far behind; even he would be a handful alone, but there was no way that he could ever hope to stand against them both.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to keep his temper under control, Caspar attempted to defuse his fury by posting a question about which he was genuinely (albeit morbidly) curious. "Alright, Your Majesty." he said bitterly. "Speaking of 'unavoidable' things in war 'for our own good,' what purpose did you rounding up all of those soldiers and vassals of Count Gloucester and having them burned alive serve?! How 'necessary' was that?!"

Edelgard gave a light shrug. "You ought to ask Lorenz and his father." she remarked offhandedly. "That should make them think twice before taking any action that would be detrimental to us."

He had not noticed the presence of his other schoolmate, true. However, that may have been due in no small part to Edelgard being intent on making as much a production ( _"I offer you, men of Gloucester, a choice."_ she said starkly. _"Bend the knee and swear fealty to the Empire. Together, we will leave the world a better place than we found it. Or refuse and die."_ ) as possible of the mass immolation. Nonetheless, as that horrible smell of burning hair and cooking flesh returned to his nostrils- the same smell (and accompanying images) that had haunted his nightmares for weeks, for Caspar, pure revulsion and terror were shortly joined by even more morbid curiosity. "Y-you burned hundreds of men alive! How can you be so-? And that smell! Goddess, that smell..."

The emperor tilted her head sideways in confusion. "What are you talking about?" inquired Edelgard, genuinely unaware of what Caspar spoke. "I never noticed anything amiss. I also do not understand why people keep saying it's so horrible. I actually find it...peaceful. Kind of soothing, even."

In addition to being disgusted and full of contempt for the woman whose strength he'd once looked up to, Caspar was now genuinely terrified of her; either he did not really know the princess at all or she had kept up one hell of an amazing facade for months on end. "Edelgard...who are you, really?" he inquired gingerly, as though his main concern were to escape this conversation without being burned alive. "I mean, I know you're far from an ordinary woman, let alone an ordinary princess, but..."

Edelgard gave an expression halfway between a smirk and a genuine smile. "Correct you are, Caspar. I am not an ordinary princess." she remarked smugly. "I'm no ordinary woman. My dreams come true."

Very keen on extricating himself from this conversation for his own sake, Caspar set out for the city gates without another word, pondering those last words Edelgard spoke to him. Under most other circumstances, such a statement would not have been especially troublesome. However, much like the speech given to Count Gloucester's ill-fated men, Caspar could not help but sense something... _sinister_ about the statement. Sinister in a way he felt to his very core, but had no way of articulating.

Meanwhile, as she watched the back of the departing young man, Edelgard reviewed the conversation in light of how evasive Raqmu was being about the whereabouts of his granddaughter. "Pitiful traitor." sneered Hubert. "Shall I dispose of him, Lady Edelgard? Lest he return to haunt us later?"

The emperor shook her head. "No, he's no threat." she insisted. "Just an insect, railing against my new world. He won't amount to anything."

"Understood, milady."

"Still, I knew him to be hotheaded, but I never expected him to push back so forcefully, especially when I bought up his father and brother. I suppose that's what I get for underestimating even the most foolish target."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of people...weren't exactly fans (but when has that ever stopped me? Never, exactly) of Caspar. But the fact that he's always been a complete monster as a warrior/war master for me and that he reminds me of Boyd from the Tellius games and Ryuji Sakamoto after having done the fusion dance endeared him to me a lot.


	4. Bringer of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt greatly dislikes being dragged out to a performance of a certain Enbarr opera greatly by Dorothea and her emperor. A rather frank conversation with Edelgard however, is the source of a number of rather disturbing revelations for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Linhardt and his sass. Not to mention his being a fusion of Soren and Setsuna. And I sympathize so much with him being tired all the time!

Linhardt von Herving was a lazy, lazy man. He made no attempt to apologize for or conceal that fact. So long as he was left to his research and relaxation, he honestly couldn't have cared less about his duties as a noble son or the minutiae of of imperial politics. Still, it was bad form to ignore an invitation from one of his old classmates (and the emperor) to Enbarr for one of her old company's opera performances. Especially when said classmate was paying for the meal to which she had invited them afterwards.

While not exactly the ray of sunshine she was during their academy days, a rather tired-seeming Dorothea gave them a smile. "Lin, Edie!" she remarked. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Of course we did." Edelgard replied. "After all, what sort of patron would I be if I did not take the time to appreciate your company's art?"

"So, I take it you're the leading lady, Dorothea?" inquired Linhardt, politely but clearly less-than-interested.

"Oh, no, of course not!" replied Dorothea, one hand over her chest. "I'm a bit player here. No, the role of Saint Seiros is being played by Isabella. She really does have it all- beauty, brains, the voice and gravitas for the role- and a family that adores her to come home to every night."

Edelgard rolled her violet eyes at the mention of the saint. "It will be delightful, I'm certain." she lied. "By the by, have either of you spoken to Ferdinand as of late?"

"Sorry, I haven't seen Ferdie in some time now."

"Can't say I have. Any reason?"

Edelgard's gaze, while turned on nothing in particular, suddenly became rather intense- almost predatory. "Oh, it's nothing." she replied blankly. "He...made an appointment with me some time ago...an appointment which he rudely decided to break."

Still, Linhardt had to admit; one benefit of being Edelgard's guest was their placement in the theater's most prominent box, well away from the other patrons. He was not thrilled however, about the raucous, standing ovation given by many of the crowd's members for Edelgard, only quieting down due to the intervention of some very bored-looking imperial guards.

He may have been lazy, but Linhardt was no boor; he did in fact, wait several minutes into the overture before he bothered his emperor with observations about the crowd. "That party in the very back." Linhardt remarked. "I'm fairly certain they hail from Duscur. I swear, I thought one of the fellows was Molinaro for a second!"

Edelgard did not answer, her gaze turning particularly intense and hateful as she gripped the seat's armrest at the sight of Isabella as Seiros.

"Erm- Edelgard-"

"I heard you, Linhardt. Yes, yes, party from Duscur. And I could not say one way or another- they all kind of look alike to me."

"Very well. I'm told that's very common for those outside of 'your group,' if you will. It's just considered...less-than-polite remarking upon it though."

Linhardt kept up this awkward silence for another twenty minutes or so. Clearly, Edelgard was not enjoying the production as much as she'd told Dorothea she would.

"Disappointing, but far from surprising." she remarked jealously. "This hagiographic drivel for that monster."

The slothful scholar glanced at the emperor as though she were disturbed. "Er, 'that monster,' Edelgard?" he inquired gently. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing. Nothing you need concern yourself with."

"If you insist. Still, _The Tale of Seiros_ has been considered one of the classics of the stage for centuries now. Beloved by common and noble audiences alike."

Edelgard huffed in derision. "Well, perhaps that should change." she retorted. "People learn to love their chains."

Well, that settled it, Linhardt told himself. There was in fact, something (perhaps several somethings) bothering Edelgard greatly. While she'd obviously remained an enigma to most of her old schoolmates, even largely to those in the Black Eagle house, for whatever reason with Linhardt- perhaps she genuinely respected his intellect or perhaps he could just see through more of the facade she wore- the emperor was somehow less guarded with him than others. Not to the degree of the Professor (still literally missing-in-action years later), of course, but it was noticeable.

"And how exactly do you intend to change that?" he inquired, genuinely curious. "After all, the Empire and the Seiros faith are bound unusually tightly together, both in past and present. Perhaps even more so than Faerghus."

While unable to see the contempt in her expression directly, Linhardt could still feel the chill in her words- and the chill it (for whatever reason) sent down his spine. "I've been neglected, abused, kidnapped, experimented upon like some sort of rat." she spat. "Do you know what kept me standing through all those years of torment? Faith. Not in any gods, not in myths and legends. Faith in myself. In Edelgard von Hresvelg. I don't see why the common people should be any different."

"Edelgard, as far as the rural commoners are concerned, you're a veritable folk hero. But even so- in their hearts and minds, you're still no replacement for Saint Seiros and the church."

The emperor opened her mouth, extraordinarily tempted to retort, the words dying on her lips as they transformed into an exaggerated, irritated inhale; she had shown too much of her own hand too quickly to Linhardt and she could not afford to let any more of her cards slip. After all, Linhardt was clever; not like Petra with her pride and hunter's instinct, that vain, arrogant fop (more like future kindling, she thought nastily) Ferdinand and his unreasonable ideas of justice, or even Caspar, who was even worse then the Aegir scion in that respect. With this in mind, Edelgard decided to turn the conversation in a safer-but-related direction- work. "Do you know the motto of House Hresvelg, Linhardt?" she inquired.

Linhardt shrugged. "Fire and Blood?" he offered.

Once more, the emperor rolled her eyes. "The OTHER one, Linhardt."

"I cannot say I do. Sorry to offend, but I am not overly interested in my own house's heraldry. I could scarcely tell you more about anyone else's."

"The other motto of House Hresvelg is 'Woe to the Vanquished.' Both are very appropriate for our day and age. We HAVE been vanquished. Subjugated by the Crest caste system built and maintained by those self-righteous beasts. And how exactly are we to overthrow this woe of the vanquished- of the conquered? With those three words. Fire and blood."

_"So that's why we're at war with half the damn continent?"_ Linhardt thought bitterly. He'd always known Edelgard to be rather...intense, to say the very least. But for the peace-loving young noble, this sense of self-righteousness was new...and disturbing on a number of levels. Still, he was a firm believer in the power of reason and the capacity of the human mind for such; he knew Edelgard's intelligence to rival his own for a fact. "That is a very interesting take on the events of the past few years." he complimented. "Still, I cannot help but be reminded of Ionius the Great when you speak of fire and blood so highly."

Edelgard's expression wrinkled in annoyance at this point. "So you accepted Dorothea's invitation just to remind me of my enemies' lies?" she inquired testily. "The lies of the Empire's enemies? Consider me reminded."

"No, of course not. But nonetheless, I cannot help but wonder sometimes..."

On this very topic of Ionius the "Great," Linhardt was compelled to remember a conversation he'd shared with Seteth.

_"I was always under the impression those stories were mere war propaganda. The end of the life of Ionius the Great has always been told as more tragedy than anything; that his son killed him after he started to lose his mind, even taking a regnal name in honor of his father."_

_"I can assure you one thing about Ionius. His enemies did not lie about his character. When the first rumblings of discontent in the north began, he set their castles and towns aflame. He murdered sons in front of their fathers. He burned men alive with chemical and magical fire, and laughed as they screamed. And his efforts to stamp out dissent led to a rebellion that eventually saw the northern half of the continent lost. That is how the War of the Eagle and Lion began in earnest."_

"Do you truly believe me to be so foolish as my fathers were, Linhardt?" she inquired, appeased but still not pleased.

"No, and thank the Goddess for that." Linhardt half-fibbed.

He'd still had a number of questions about how Seteth was able to describe the events so vividly- almost as though he had been himself present. But Linhardt's further research did confirm one thing about the Ardrestian emperor who lost the northern half of Fódlan; Ionius had always given his enemies the justice he thought they deserved, and every single time, it made him feel powerful and right...until he met his unfortunate end. _"Why am I reminded so much of...present company?"_ Linhardt inquired of himself rhetorically.

To break himself from the self-imposed isolation, the emperor posed him a question- one that would make a number of things terrifyingly clear for him. "Do you believe we're here for a reason, Linhardt?" inquired Edelgard.

"Yes." he answered curtly, supremely tempted to make a smart remark about research and relaxation.

"I'm here to free the world from tyrants. That is my destiny and I will serve it, no matter the cost."

Linhardt frowned, obviously invisible to the emperor and her single-minded focus upon Isabella as Seiros. "But...Edelgard...so many people have died such horrible deaths...and for what?"

Edelgard gave him his answer. "And I will ascend to the highest of heights, I'll set my throne above that false goddess and her pathetic devotees!"

Linhardt only needed a moment to process the hubris and implications of the statement Edelgard had made to him, probably the first time she had ever been completely honest with him. And the scene changing to one lacking Isabella-as-Seiros gave Linhardt the opportunity to pose a question that had been weighing on him heavily.  


"I'm sorry, Linhardt." she said, turning in his direction. "What was that you were saying?"

The noble layabout set his fist under his chin. "Edelgard, may I ask you a very frank question?"

"Of course."

"When you speak, do you actually hear the words coming out of your mouth or is it all just white noise? Or something else to that effect?"

The emperor gave a mirthless chuckle. "How very droll, Linhardt." she admitted. "Were it anyone else, Hubert would likely have likely cut your tongue out for such a quip, but I'll allow it this once."

Well, that says it all, Linhardt thought. The lack of an actual denial indicated one thing to him- Edelgard did truly and genuinely believe every word that she had spoken to him. And those statements concerning her "destiny," the bloody toll the war had already taken on Fódlan, and her liberal application of the term "fire and blood" had utterly terrified and disgusted him. Well, there is no way that I'll be a party to such butchery, he resolved to himself. "Excuse me, Your Majesty." Linhardt said, stifling a yawn to appear as natural as possible. "But Mother took a tumble the other day and she's always been a bit clumsy. I'm afraid I'll have to depart early to check on her." 

"Very well." Edelgard confirmed, making a mental note instructing Hubert to investigate his alibi. "I hope she feels better."

As he exited the theater, Linhardt breathed a sigh of audible relief. While he may have been extraordinarily lazy, he was not suicidal. However, he had, unlike Caspar (wherever the hell he was), one disadvantage; that Edelgard did not underestimate his mind. They both knew that the very second Edelgard stepped out of that theater, she was going to have her right-hand man tail him like an eagle tracking a vole. _"Oh, damn."_ Linhardt thought to himself. Nonetheless, he still had a head start of a good three or so hours. Plenty of time to return to the Hevring manor in the city, and pawn some valuables to fund his flight from the Empire, he supposed.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringer of Light?! That's not one of Dany's titles! Then again, look at the language the fic's title is in. Edelgard obviously isn't aware of it, but...


	5. Imperator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even at Edelgard's side as her "honored" guest, Bernadetta knows fully well she has no place in Enbarr's coliseum. The rabid, cheering crowds, that sickly copper smell of blood, and worst of all, the cruelty.

What crime precisely had this group of Seiros faithful (a bishop, some monks and nuns, and laypeople alike) committed, wondered Bernadetta. And did it honestly warrant them being marched out into the coliseum in chains, the gathered crowd booing, jeering, and cursing (oddly enough, always for exactly two-minute increments, she noticed) at them, pelting them with stones and rotten produce? Were they guilty? Were they innocent? As Edelgard confided in her, perhaps all of them were, perhaps none of them. They were, in her words, "small, unimportant little details." She would have avoided such a dreadful place had it been at all her decision to do so- Goddess knew she would much rather be in her room. But when the two most imposing figures in Bernadetta's life insisted that she be a "guest of honor," she did not really have much of a say in the matter.

In one sense, Bernadetta was actually somewhat jealous of her emperor. From their booth, Edelgard joyously took in the raucous cheers and applause (come to think of it, this was probably the first time she'd even seen her come close to smiling since the Professor vanished- and Edelgard was generally not a happy woman) from the largely-common crowd gathered as she waved back to them.

"H-how do you do it?" Bernadetta inquired.

Edelgard, obviously occupied and having the time of her life, ignored her. Unfortunately, her other guest did was not as occupied by the spectacle. "Shut up, you foolish girl." hissed Lord Emilio. "I thought you would have at least learned SOME propriety at that school."

"Y-yes, of course, Father."

As long as she could remember, Bernadetta had always feared and disliked her father- her father disliked her even more apparently, to the point of being emotionally and psychologically (and physically every now and again) abusive. But at some point last year, after departing on some mysterious business trip to the capital, Emilio von Varley underwent a distinct change in personality, allegedly due to the influence of Edelgard ( _"Hubert and I gave Lord Emilio...a stern talking-to."_ the Emperor half-fibbed. _"He should trouble you no longer, Bernadetta."_ ) herself. Her father, while not exactly pleasant, became generally tolerable, even to her. She and Hubert must have done _something_ right, she thought.

Then again, there were a number of...interesting rumors concerning Edelgard's right-hand that reached even her reclusive ears. Apparently, Hubert possessed and ran a network of "rooms" across Fódlan  which specialized, in his words, "in information gathering and behavioral correction." A hundred of them across the continent if one did not count the main one in Enbarr- the hundred-and-first of which was easily the most feared and hated among Edelgard's enemies. Oddly enough, when (or if) those unfortunate enough to enter Hubert's room in Enbarr ( _"Now, Lord Emilio,"_ sneered Hubert in sadistic anticipation. _"what is two-plus-two?"_ ) left, they would universally and vocally proclaim their love for Edelgard; this even extended to Lord Emilio, who had been utterly outraged and disgusted at the young woman usurping her father's throne and title. She'd no way of proving it of course, but Bernadetta had her suspicions of what exactly Hubert had done to her father. His newfound, crippling phobia of even the word "rat" was something of a giveaway.

Having indulged the crowd and their adoration for a good couple of minutes, Edelgard raised her left hand to silence the gathered masses, turning her attention upon the condemned. "You and your flock have subverted the Empire and poisoned the minds of her people long enough, Bishop Varius." she began, the previous light in her eyes abruptly departing. "Have you any final words before you meet your goddess?"

The man, a rather thin, frail-looking man in his fifties, whispered among his twenty fellows before speaking. "Yes, we do. We've discussed it beforehand." he confirmed.

"Go on then."

"Hail Emperor, we who are about to die salute you!"

The soldiers placing the tunics upon the naked condemned and beginning to lash them to the posts, Edelgard's expression wrinkled as it was wont to do when she was irritated. "Or not."

Perhaps not surprisingly, the bishop was the first to meet his fate; a spike fastened under his chin to prevent movement of his head, Varius mouthed some prayer or another as the molten mixture of pitch and wax slid down the pole. He continued this prayer until of course, the fluid made contact with his flesh, screams of agony immediately replacing any possible sounds from the man, his body shortly bursting into flames. As this torture was repeated with the others, the crowd burst into cheers and jeers at the spectacle of the "traitors" being turned into human torches.

Naturally, the gentle Bernadetta could not, even with her father's badgering, bear to watch the torture proceed. When turning to her emperor, oddly enough, Bernadetta noticed Edelgard to be rather...undisturbed by the screams and horrible smell of burning hair and flesh. In fact, she actually seemed to be _contented!_ "How can you watch this?! Like there's nothing wrong?!" she inquired urgently. "This is-"

Edelgard tilted her head in confusion. "You know, I keep hearing people say that," she admitted. "but I never understand what exactly they're talking about."

"I mean it, girl!" scowled Emilio at his daughter. "Stop. Bothering. Her Majesty!"

Again, an imperial hand was raised to silence him. "No, it's fine, Duke Varley. I enjoy Bernadetta's questions."

Perhaps mercifully for both of the parties involved, one of the duke's minions abruptly emerged from the adjoining corridor, the imperial guards attempting to restrain him of little consequence. "Lord Emilio, we have a problem!" he exclaimed. "A convoy of ours en route to the capital was just attacked by highwaymen- no mere bandits from the looks of it!"

Duke Varley scowled in annoyance. "Damn, not again!" he swore, rising from his seat. "I must go to survey the damage. The servants will escort you back to the manor. Do take care not to bother Her Majesty too greatly, Bernadetta."

"I understand, Father."

The most imposing figure in her life vanishing into the corridors of the coliseum, Bernadetta was considerably more at ease; she was only in the company of the _second_ most imposing figure in her life, something she could handle. After all, she still had questions she had been dying to get an answer about straight from the Emperor's lips. "Um, Edelgard..." she began politely. "I'm not especially religious. Never have been. But what did those people really...you know, do? To deserve such a horrible death, I mean?"

"Do recall our conversation when that insufferable woman tried to rope us into some festival or another with her baked goods and false kindness?" Edelgard inquired, a hint of annoyance in her otherwise-neutral tone.

Bernadetta recalled the conversation well, for no other reason than the chill it sent down her spine.

_"B-but Mercie's always been so nice to us, Edelgard! To everyone! And those muffins smell so delicious..."_

_"Why? Because her goddess told her to? The Church of Seiros...don't make me laugh. If people continue to rely on that garbage, Fódlan- humanity will go extinct."_

The cheers and jeers of the crowd still ringing in her ears and that horrible smell of burning hair and flesh assaulting her nostrils, Bernadetta was forced to protest. "But what crime could possibly justify this?!" she demanded.  


Edelgard gave her very frank answer, her expression possessing a particular hardness to it. "The Seiros faith is a drug." she said harshly. "Over the course of thirteen centuries, that witch has caused humanity to become addicted to their submission under the Crests. A powerful medicine is needed to remedy 1,300 years of distortion."

"Edelgard, I..."

Rather abruptly, Edelgard turned to her old classmate with a smile. "Remember what I told you, Bernadetta?" she inquired, those violet eyes still seeming to bore into her soul. "The world is dark and full of terrors."

"Of course it is! Why else do you think I stay in my room so much?!"

"Precisely. But with my- the new dawn, I assure you- our little corner of the world will be the brightest and safest of all."

It was a very appealing promise for someone with as profound a sense of insecurity as Bernadetta. With how confident, headstrong, and determined (perhaps to a fault) she was, she had always admired Edelgard- felt a sense of security in her presence. But as an officer of her imperial guard came bearing a message and a certain captured Fraldarius soldier was released into the arena to human torches, the snarls of a pack of angry, ravenous lions, and the howls and cheers of pure bloodlust from the crowd, Bernadetta was forced to seriously reconsider this fact.

"Your Majesty, the intelligence you demanded!" reported the officer, handing over the documents. "The rumors of a spiky-haired mercenary fighting with the Fraldarius and Gautier bandits- the one who was said to have taken down an entire battalion single-handedly. They're no mere rumors, ma'am."

Scanning the accumulated intelligence gained from the fighting (largely casualty figures and damage reports) in the north, the emperor nodded. "I see. Thank you. You are dismissed."

Her minion scurrying off to accomplish other business, Edelgard, none too happy with these developments, turned her attention to the grotesque spectacle, the great cats having been unleashed from their enclosure and circling the condemned prisoner. "It seems that Caspar has chosen just as poorly as I'd thought." she informed blankly. "Very well."

Bernadetta was shocked to hear confirmation of at least one-fourth of the rumors from Edelgard's lips. "Wait, what?!" she inquired.

Lips reflexively curling into a smirk, the emperor began to speculate upon the justice that her now-enemy deserved as she watched the starving beasts begin literally tearing the poor Fraldarius bastard to shreds. "Caspar always loved to fight. I suppose I owe it to him as an old friend to see that he gets the death he'd want. How many lions do you suppose he could take on, Bernadetta? Oh, wait, he was always brawling too. It would be wise to have a few bears join him in the arena as well. Oh, and I can't forget my next guest of honor. That vapid, fanatic bitch Maria will be treated to a seat at my side for her little boy's finest- and last- hour."

Her mind taking a moment to process the terrifying implications- if not outright statements- of her classmate's violent fantasies, Bernadetta was horrified. "Edelgard...no! You can't mean that!"

Ignoring her completely, the emperor continued. "Oh, and after what Ferdinand will get in front of this crowd? He'll be literally begging to fight all the beasts I can throw at him. And speaking of Ferdinand, I wonder if there's a way to make flame burn more slowly?"

Bernadetta was both shocked and horrified at the depraved fantasies concocted by the woman she'd once so admired. She'd heard her mention her fixation on executing Ferdinand with fire previously. In fact, it was a recurring nightmare ( _"No, please! Take me instead!"_ she'd cried more than once in her sleep) of hers to be forced to witness said punishment. But this was proof positive for Bernadetta- that Edelgard's obsession with burning Ferdinand alive was no coincidence.

"I'm sorry, Bernadetta." she remarked, as if the hatred and malice had suddenly evaporated. "What was that you were saying?"

"N-nothing, it's nothing." fibbed Bernadetta, shaking her head.

She supposed she should have seen it earlier, Bernadetta thought wistfully. If it wasn't the invasion of Garreg Mach where she'd ordered her erstwhile classmates killed without hesitation or after the battle when the bloody, dismembered corpses of some Knights of Seiros were "accidentally" impaled on pikes ( _"I'll send someone to fix it immediately and give them a proper burial."_ Edelgard lied. _"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Bernadetta."_ ) set up outside, right in front of her room, she supposed she should have noticed something deeply, truly wrong with her idol once she'd invited her and Ferdinand to dine with her as countless prisoners were being butchered right outside the dining hall. But she hadn't _wanted_ to see it, she admitted to herself. She wanted to continue to shut herself away in her room; it was someone _else's_ problem, she assured herself.

Now? She could not- would not- run from one thing any longer. Something she knew in her mind and soul to be true. What Edelgard was doing- this war, this "new dawn" of hers, and the cruelty required to accomplish it. All of it was just plain _wrong_ , she told herself resolutely. And if her mother and father wished to tie themselves to this star- to this bringer of light- then they could do it without her.

 _"The world may be a scary place sometimes,"_ she thought. _"but the only things dark and full of terrors are your heart and mind, Edelgard."_

Edelgard releasing her after another half hour or so, as fearful as Bernadetta may have now been of her fallen idol, she was kept warm by the fire of outrage set by the emperor's atrocities, even through the social niceties that she would have normally shunned. "Lady Bernadetta," her father's chief servant said with an oblivious bow. "by your leave?"

"Yes," she replied, unusually blankly, as though repeating it to herself. "yes, we are leaving."

Doing a mental inventory of all of Edelgard's sins she had either witnessed, reliably heard tell of, or reasonably inferred, Bernadetta, an anxious young woman by nature, wanted to be completely certain that this was not merely an emotionally charged, reactionary decision. One for which she (and very possibly her parents) would painfully pay with their lives. But as she returned to her sanctuary in the manor, after wrestling with the question for the entire carriage ride home, anticipating any of Edelgard's sophistic justifications or attempts ( _"Remember, they abandoned you, Bernadetta. Why give them any further consideration at all?"_ ) to manipulate her, she could and would still say one thing- what the emperor was doing was just _plain wrong._

Drawing absentmindedly in an old school notebook, Bernadetta heard evidence of a great commotion coming from the lower levels of the manor, marked most notably by her father barking irritated orders to his soldiers. A few minutes of this saw the irate lord burst into his daughter's room, the magical energy on his fingertips still dying away after casting some spell or another. "Bernadetta!" he said urgently. "There's an intruder on the manor grounds! Probably more! They've already attacked our men."

"An intruder?!" inquired his daughter. "W-what do they want?!"

"We'll figure that out once we capture them. Stay in your room until I instruct you otherwise, girl."

"Like you have to tell me?!"

The brief excitement having largely abated in her general area after a few minutes, even with this newfound purpose of hers, Bernadetta was forced to wonder something: what if she _was_ wrong? What if she truly _was_ nothing more than (as per one of Edelgard's favorite terms) an insect railing against destiny? What if Edelgard had been right and their old classmates _had_ intentionally and truly abandoned them? Petra was something of a special case, true, but Linhardt, Caspar, and Ferdinand were young, strapping noblemen in the prime of their lives. Surely they'd had other options- other offers that did not require they partake in Edelgard's butchery of the continent? Stepping out onto the seldom-used balcony attached to her room, Bernadetta sighed as she gazed up pensively at the shimmering stars. "Why couldn't I have even a little of your courage...?" she mourned. "I mean, you even gave up your noble name rather than serve her..."

Having spent weeks evading spies, sentries, imperial guards, and Hubert alike, after he'd been bobbing and weaving along the hedges in the gardens of Manor Varley, silently mouthing prayers to the Goddess or any deity that would hear that he not be discovered, he'd done it. Ferdinand had finally done it. As gloomy as she herself claimed to be, for Ferdinand, to see her alive and well may as well have been the sun rising in the east, temporarily banishing the darkness that was Edelgard's jealous, hateful soul.

"Psst! Bernadetta! Bernadetta!" he called. "Bernadetta!"

The truth was, by this point, a part of the noble recluse worried for her sanity, seeing as she had begun to hear the voice of one of her old classmates. "Ferdinand?" she inquired. "Why...? How...? Can it really be-"

Stepping forth into the light shimmering down from the balcony, the figure removed his hood, revealing its owner as the one who'd fled the Empire, a mane of red hair now running down to his shoulders. "Yes, it is."

Simultaneously, Bernadetta felt her heart swell and it break for what his presence in Adrestia must mean. "But if Ed- if she kn-knows you're here," she stammered. "she'll b-burn-"

"I know. There was something I couldn't bear to leave in the emperor's clutches- something I'm willing to risk my life to save."

"Wh-what's that?"

"Is it not obvious? It's you, Bernadetta! We've all been worried sick about you! Now, quickly! Pack a bag! Bring only what you absolutely need!"

Well, she had gotten her wish in one sense, Bernadetta reflected. Even in spite of their awkward (even by her standards) beginnings, Ferdinand was probably the only three individuals she'd encountered at Garreg Mach with whom she felt relatively at ease- secure in his presence even. The first however, was still missing in action and the other...well, now that Bernadetta thought about it, there was always a sort of chill of insincerity to her declarations of protective feelings for her; of course, her actions betrayed that "protectiveness" in her reign of terror unleashed upon the continent and graphic fantasies concerning those she had deemed to have betrayed her. Still, there was still a lingering twinge of doubt hanging over Bernadetta. "Y-you don't need me!" she insisted. "You'd be much better off, I'm sure!"

"Yes, we do need you!" insisted Ferdinand. "Bernadetta, you know what Edelgard is doing is wrong, you've always known in your heart! We all know it as well. Do not let those jeering, bloodthirsty boors in the coliseum deceive you- there are plenty of people against her!"

Oddly enough, for Bernadetta, it was almost as though Edelgard had cast some sort of spell over her years ago; an insidious spell which confirmation of her courage, worth, and feelings of genuine camaraderie from her old classmates had finally broken. And of course, the sheer gallantry of one of them infiltrating the empire to whisk her away, right out from under the emperor's nose. Hearing some of her father's men making for one end of the hallway or another, Bernadetta in her panic, reacted instinctively and clung to the ivy adjacent to her window. Fortunately, it was quite strong and she was rather light, but the story-and-a-half climb was still not exactly pleasant. Although, it was made somewhat more so by Ferdinand helping her down from the last stretch.

Purely by osmosis, Bernadetta had picked up on the layout of the gardens and this was rather helpful for helping the pair to navigate back to Ferdinand's faithful steed. "Wait, you can't w-want me to, you know- ride your horse?! I can't ride!"

No time at all to waste, Ferdinand hoisted Bernadetta onto the front half of the saddle as she gave a panicked yelp. "Worry not, Bernadetta." he reassured. "I've got you."

And in spite of her longstanding fear of the great beasts of burden, Ferdinand remained true to his word, making sure she was stably atop the steed before mounting it himself, Bernadetta fitting snugly on the front half of the saddle. "Rest assured, Bernadetta, you are never alone." he assured. "Not as long as I- any of us- still draw breath."

On the verge of tears of joy, Bernadetta sniffled. "Th-thank you...so much, Ferdinand." she replied. "F-for never giving up on me."

"Think nothing of it, my fair lady."

Setting off at a trot, the Ferdinand drove the steed out to the road, which was shortly thereafter blocked by a hooded figure. Oddly enough, Ferdinand did not heed the man apart from slowing down a bit. "How fared the operation?" he inquired.

While not visible due to his hood, the man beamed. "Without a hitch, Lord Ferdinand!" he reported. "Duke Varley is none the wiser. He's still believes us to be the 'highwaymen' from earlier!"

"Excellent! Now to complete the ruse-"

"At once, milord!"

The hooded man setting off in the opposite direction- toward the chaos- Bernadetta's expression was one of shock. "Wait, that was you?!" she inquired. "Those bandits Father was so angry about-"

"Some of my finest men." Ferdinand confirmed. "Only they could have handled doing the task of doing as much damage as possible to the materials while keeping casualties to an absolute minimum."

"Ferdinand, you really are amazing."

"If you wish to thank someone, thank Linhardt when we see him- the plan was his idea."

"Wait, where are we going exactly?"

"Not here. We have a safe house well out of the way of the capital. She still has eyes- and ears- everywhere. We're going to go a little faster now, Bernadetta. Get ready!"

Stabilizing herself against the proud nobleman as his steed took off at a gallop, as terrified as she should have been, Bernadetta was actually feeling more liberated than she'd ever felt in her life. While she could not (or refused to) see it at the time, there was always something kind of...odd about Edelgard's kindness toward her. As though it were somehow simultaneously insincere but increasingly possessive as time wore on. Therefore, it was little surprise that once she'd gotten over the initial shock, she felt as liberated as her gallant companion did on horseback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do something a little different with Edelgard here. She's not quoting Dany, but...other fictional individuals.
> 
> I don't really know why exactly I had that last part with Ferdinand. Hubert having one hundred-and-one "rooms" across the continent where those that come in end up "loving the Emperor," when/if they leave, there's a reason for. But you all know what that was with Bernadetta on the balcony. You ALL know unless you've been living under a rock for the past four centuries.


	6. Augusta Invicta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea's travels abroad leave her torn between lofty ideals espoused by Edelgard- and their practical consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you CAN read this as Edelthea if you really want to. Since I do have her being the very last to cut ties with Edelgard and she's probably even more torn on the decision than Bernadetta. And in all fairness, I kinda did write this to sound like a breakup conversation.

She was not a woman who smiled very often- neither of them were, her old friend probably even less. Even at the palace, at the behest of her old classmate- probably the closest to her than anyone else- Dorothea hated the feeling of putting on airs with all of these nobles. She supposed this was how it felt to swim with sharks. Upon her arrival, she was actually greeted by probably one of the most ethically-questionable men, common or noble, present. This was somewhat lessened however, by him outfitting himself like a reject from some old gothic novel, his hair made up equally ridiculously.

"Ah, if it isn't Miss Dorothea Arnault, the great songstress!" greeted Hubert dramatically.

"Hello Hubie." she replied neutrally.

"It was a wonder even Her Majesty could pull you away from all your adoring fans!"

"No need to be so dramatic. You know we're all old friends."

"Might I share a word with you, Dorothea? Concerning a matter of some urgency."

"Well, if it's urgent, of course."

Almost any other soul in the Empire (or continent) save for Edelgard herself would have likely run screaming for their lives at being urged by Hubert von Vestra into any isolated space like a certain lonely garden well away from the festivities. Dorothea, on the other hand, was more-or-less used to his off-putting presence, the even worse rumors about him not withstanding.

"Truly, it is a pleasure to see you again." fibbed Hubert shortly. "But I hope this is simply a friendly visit on your part to Her Majesty with no ulterior motive on your end."

Dorothea tilted her head in mild surprise and confusion. "Ulterior motives?" she repeated. "Hubie, what on earth are you talking about?"

While clearly not pleased in the slightest, Hubert retained some of his composure. "I sincerely hope that you are not simply attempting to curry favor with Her Majesty before joining our old classmates in putting another knife in her back." he scowled. "Scurry off to commit treason and murder imperial soldiers? Possibly chase certain professorial phantoms that should remain buried? Or rather, phantoms that I ought to have buried when I had the chance?"

Dorothea held her hand across her heart. "Oh, no, not at all!" she exclaimed, a hint of doubt creeping into her tone. "Of course I just want to catch up. It's been ages, hasn't it?"

Clearly not convinced by this denial, Hubert glared daggers at Dorothea. "Choose wisely, Dorothea." he spat. "Her Majesty does not just fight for the Empire's sake, but all of humanity. I would advise you think long and hard before you decide to betray Lady Edelgard and throw in with that filthy race of beasts."

"Filthy race of beasts?' Hubie, you're making no sense at all."

Hubert turned his back to depart. "I would go to the ends of the earth to serve Lady Edelgard and free humanity, whether beast or man, from the threats it faces. Know that I would gladly end the lives of you and your dear professor both as many times as needed."

 _"What on earth was that about?"_ wondered Dorothea as Hubert stormed off. Saving the world? Filthy race of beasts? And she would never _betray_ Edie...would she? After all, _she_ was the Breaker of Chains, _she_ was the folk heroine of the oppressed masses, _she_ was the terror of those fat, decadent nobles. Surely, for all the bloodshed that had already occurred, Edelgard just _got it_ , she reassured herself. What possible reason could she have to betray her? Temporarily putting it out of her mind, Dorothea resolved to simply get it out of the way and complete her obligatory swim in the shark-infested waters and equally obligatory fan feteing, Dorothea sighed, returning to the festivities from the garden.

It was quite a bit different from singing or performing in general, Dorothea had finally realized. Socializing with the throngs of fans, noble and common alike, signing autographs, regaling them with tales of her greatest performances. That was likely why it was so draining to her. The fawning, insincere, often-lecherous nobles approaching her were actually somewhat less trying now that she thought about it- a couple of their offers, she'd honestly considered, but with the persistent haze hanging over her mood, she seriously doubted that she'd get any enjoyment from the encounters. Besides, there was something...off about the servants milling about the grand ballroom and its vicinity, that Dorothea could not exactly place. Of course, that may have had something to do with their mistress- the woman in red formal wear- hovering over the festivities a couple of stories above the ballroom, gazing upon the adoring crowd Dorothea had attracted like a vulture does a dying steer in the desert.

At the insistence of one of the servants, the band abruptly stopped playing their waltz, instead the trumpeters opting for a grand fanfare as the evening's hostess descended down the stairwell, in noticeably better spirits as the crowd's attention had been turned to her noble presence. Dorothea rolled her eyes at the noblemen and noblewomen obsequiously paying their respects to the Emperor- both she and them knew that they had little time for each other- hell, Edelgard had warned her herself that many nobles were (to the surprise of no one) actively plotting against her rule.

Finally, the lady of the hour's attention was turned to Dorothea herself, managing for her a tired sort of semi-smile. "Well met, Miss Dorothea." she complimented neutrally. "I see the years have been kind to you."

Dorothea's expression lightened somewhat. "You don't clean up so bad yourself, Your Majesty."

"I apologize that I was unable to come to the opening night performance of your latest show- duty called, you understand."

The songstress unconsciously grimaced. "No, I understand."

"Well then! Shall we get out of here? This is a mere formality- as you know, I've little tolerance for this crowd. Perhaps you'd like to see my study? Finally, they've completed the renovations."

"That sounds lovely, Edie."

With a right hand raised in the direction of the orchestra- a direction to continue the festive waltz- the Emperor ushered her old friend away from the festivities, Dorothea's ease growing as the crowds thinned only to the presence of guards standing watch and a few servants milling about in the corridors. "I hear you've been touring with the company a bit." remarked Edelgard. "That's good- we want a sense of normality to return as soon as possible."

Dorothea nodded solemnly. "Yes, let us hope so." she agreed. "Then perhaps this bloodshed can end soon."

"What bloodshed, Dorothea? This is nothing more than hunting down some marauding gangs of bandits. The 'war' is over. So tell me about your travels, Dorothea."

At this request, Dorothea instinctively tensed up, Hubert's earlier words about Edelgard's mission echoing in her head. While touring with the company and putting on a number of free shows for the weary, downtrodden populace of the continent, she had noticed much of the populace...to be in some deal of distress, to put it lightly. Whether it was the conflicts engendered in the Alliance by the forced movement of hungry, angry citizens by imperial soldiers or the very visible and wretched dying and dead in the streets of Fhirdiad or the countless stories of even worse atrocities she'd heard, her travels had not exactly been happy. In the course of the fighting the "bandit gangs," as the Emperor had put it, she'd heard (and every now and again, witnessed) of rather brutal treatment being meted out. Normally, Dorothea could reasonably ascribe this to the agency (or incompetence) of local unit commanders. However, there were a number of acts, such as the crucifixion of a host of Kingdom nobles supposedly plotting to join the opposing faction or the wholesale burning of a great forest (and the villages in and near it) in the south of Leicester, that bore a very distinct signature. Not that she would normally put any stock in such gutter rumors, but these were not exactly normal times.

"Edie..." she began contritely. "I know I'm probably WAY out of my depth here, but...I've seen some things. Some disturbing things. A lot of them, in fact."

"I don't want to talk about work, Dorothea." Edelgard said irritably.

"I know, I'm sure it's really stressful. But at the same time...I have to know. Are things like this...really necessary? Like that forest in Leicester, I mean. The big one that I could never pronounce."

Edelgard gave an annoyed scowl at her companion. "What else would you have me do?" she inquired shortly. "I must have told you a hundred times since Garreg Mach that I would take back what belongs to me- to the Empire- with fire and blood. Did you think those mere flowery words? Or artistic embellishment?"

Dorothea contemplated her answer for a moment before replying truthfully. "Kind of...yes." she admitted.

"Well, I was not simply going to allow a source of perfectly good timber to go to waste. And that very site has been used in the past to ambush imperial soldiers. It had to go."

"I suppose so, but...never mind. But I've also been wondering something- not about your work, I mean."

"Hm, what about?"

"Something seems kind of...off about the help? Are they new?"

"Most of them, yes. Feel free to have any one of them that takes your fancy, I can occupy myself. They're sworn to me, after all. Just mention who you are; it would be an honor for them."

While retaining her annoyed expression, Edelgard remained silent as she turned away from her old friend's gaze and continued to lead her to the room in question. While not overly extravagant, Edelgard's study was quite dignified; plush, blue carpeting, several busts of previous emperors (although the only ones she'd recognized were Wilhelm the Great and Edelgard's late father) on display, rows of bookshelves filled with tomes esoteric probably even by Linhardt's standards, and a grand walnut desk orbited by several pieces of handcrafted furniture.

"Go on, relax, my friend." she insisted tiredly, in somewhat better spirits. "Would you like anything to drink?"

Dorothea murmured a distracted decline; the one feature in of the study having her attention most the one she'd expected least. "Oh, Edie...these paintings." she remarked. "They're wonderful. Did...you do all these?"

"Yes. Nothing more than a little hobby of mine, really."

There was little rhyme or reason to the subjects contained in the paintings; landscapes, portraits, watercolors, and even some dark, bizarre, angular urban landscapes that Dorothea had no real way to describe. "It's kind of intimidating to know such great artists." she admitted. "Where do you even find the time to do all these?"

Edelgard smiled- or as close as she'd gotten in weeks, anyway. "You should not sell yourself short either, Dorothea."

"Yeah, this reminds me of the time when Petra took this stray branch and showed me some Brigid woodcarving-"

Abruptly, the emperor's face contorted with rage at the mention of the renegade princess. "Ugh! That ungrateful, traitorous-" she barked. "I could strangle that girl! After everything we've done for those people-!"

Only after the words had escaped her lips, Dorothea realized her faux pas. She was no fool and her patrons and fans, noble and common alike, loved to gossip; she was well aware of the departures of their old classmates from the Empire. Petra, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, and Bernadetta, in that order. Interestingly enough, rumors of a disgraced nobleman and a spiky-haired mercenary lending their strength against the forces of the Faerghus Dukedom in the frigid north had trickled back to the capital.

Angrily fantasizing about some graphic acts of violence she'd like to see inflicted upon Petra and her country, the emperor took a deep breath. "No, that's unbecoming." she admitted. "I could have that girl beaten, paraded through the streets of Enbarr for jeering crowds, and THEN I could strangle her."

At this rant, as Edelgard retired to the easel with some unfinished piece, Dorothea was forced to recall the letter that another one of their old classmates had left behind in her dressing room- for her eyes only. Apparently, Linhardt had hidden it so well, she'd only discovered the note months after his disappearance from Adrestia.

 _"To the esteemed Miss Dorothea Arnault, By the time you read this, I will, in all likelihood, be long gone from this place. Where exactly, I have an idea, but cannot say for certain. Whatever the case, I am sure that it will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for you to get in contact with me. ("Fuck, stop being so cryptic, Lin!"_ she thought irritably _) But this is no mere farewell letter. If I recall correctly, you were always rather good at history during our studies at Garreg Mach. So I leave you with a question concerning a certain individual. What figure from the Empire's history:_

_\- Possessed a profound sense of preordination, by fate, the Goddess, or what have you, to be the greatest ruler Adrestia had ever seen- and became more and more self-assured of this as time went on?_

_\- While supposedly to keep order and discipline, took great satisfaction in the extreme violence they ordered committed, possibly even to the point of becoming sexually aroused? And with each atrocity, became progressively more certain of their own righteousness and chosenness?_

_\- Was completely intolerant of nearly any dissent in their inner circle, after a point, ruling primarily through terror and the implicit threat of that same extreme violence?_

_\- Alienated much of the nobility to the point where many were willing to take up arms- and risk a horrible death for themselves and their kin alike- to dethrone them?_

_\- Was in possession of an extremely odd fixation on- if not obsession with- fire?_

_I am of course, writing about Ionius the Great. You no doubt remember him as Loog's antagonist in the War of the Eagle and Lion. Who did you think I meant? But the main issue is more germane than a four century-old war. That is, the question if you were reminded of anyone else by this description. If so, I strongly implore you to take into account the words of such a figure versus their actions and their effect on the Empire and the world. I cannot tell you what to do, but think about it, Dorothea: ~~She believes~~ That individual may believe ~~her~~ their destiny is to build a better world for everyone. If you believed that, if you truly believed it, wouldn't you kill whoever stood between you and paradise? _

_I would have liked to write further, but I am rather pressed for time as is. I'd honestly prefer you burn this letter, but should you keep it, or even turn it over to Hubert, it is no matter to me personally. But please promise me that you will give these points their due consideration. Yours truly, Linhardt"_

Even before she had finished the letter, in her heart, Dorothea knew Linhardt was not writing about Ionius the Great. Even before she had noticed the scribbled-out words "she believes" and "her." However, another part of her heart rejected it utterly. At first, she had the overwhelming urge to either tear it to shreds or turn it over to the Emperor's right hand. For months, she'd assumed Edelgard's tales of Ferdinand's treachery and depravity, including seducing Bernadetta, to be the truth. Hell, she had heard of much worse from his kind than treason and preying on emotionally unstable girls, so it was very believable.

However, as time wore on, Edelgard's behavior became increasingly...strange. Not erratic, but simply odd, Dorothea forced herself to wonder. Had the Emperor been telling her the whole truth about the matter? Was there something else at play rather than Ferdinand's own noble pride? And she never even mentioned the circumstances surrounding Caspar's disappearance. And speaking of bizarre happenings, at the servant with the tea tray in his hands appearing in the study's doorway, Dorothea felt her heart skip a beat- as though she had literally seen a ghost. That explains her rather odd statement concerning the servants, Dorothea admitted to herself.

"Your tea, Your Majesty." he said dutifully, his emerald eyes sparkling in devotion.

"Thank you." replied Edelgard. "Put it on the desk and sit down."

The man a bit taller than average and and muscled fairly heavily, as Edelgard began to put the finishing touches the portrait, it finally dawned on Dorothea why the palace's servants seemed so odd- all of them, men and women both, in their very late teens or twenties, were apparently required to style their hair in a very specific style and dye it a very specific shade of green. "Thank you, you are dismissed." she informed the servant. "Leave me and my guest be."

"Of course, ma'am."

As the servant departed- the spitting image of the man who was probably more influential in Edelgard's life than even her own father- Dorothea was overcome by a morbid curiosity about the painting's contents. "I know I'm not supposed to see it before it's finished." she said. "But may I see your painting?"

"Hmm...it's not QUITE done," answered the Emperor. "but I don't see the harm."

Much like any visitor to the palace, Dorothea was rather familiar with the portraits of the previous emperors and their consorts and this portrait was literally of the exact same style. The subjects depicted in Edelgard's new portrait were...less-than-surprising, especially given the servant who had posed for it. This coping mechanism was far superior to burning people alive or crucifying them, but it was still somehow disconcerting. More disconcerting than the painting of herself on horseback, about to fatally spear a prone dragon with a lance, anyway. However, Dorothea could honestly not say that about the one painting of a dinner with herself seated in the middle of a table in the course of the meal looking rather pensive, orbited by twelve other individuals, their erstwhile Black Eagle classmates, Ladislava, Randolph, his sister, and three more individuals she did not recognize. It was not disturbing due to an outraged Hubert seated at Edelgard's side with a knife in his hand or even to the sulking, surprised-looking Ferdinand clutching what appeared to be a bag of gold, but Dorothea, on some level, found something about the piece downright... _megalomaniacal_ on the part of its painter.

"Oh, it's lovely." she said, genuinely conflicted.

"Thank you, Dorothea." the Emperor replied, somewhat lost in thought. "I'd actually hoped to see this hang in the gallery someday- with my fathers and mothers- but..."

Putting the final touches on the painting, Edelgard gently dragged the easel off into the corner, swapping it for another easel with a blank canvas.

The songstress inhaled tiredly, as though she were about to dive into a body of water from a great, possibly dangerous height. "As impressive as this all is...I'm just worried, about you, Your- Edelgard."

"I don't understand, Dorothea. Why would you be worried about me?"

"Like I said, as impressive as all this is...I just don't think it's a healthy way to cope with everything. I mean, I know when- he turned against you, you were devastated- even more so that he disappeared. But Edie- you have to try and move on."

"I'd thank you not to reduce my duties as the emperor and the best hope of our people to the tribulations of a smitten schoolgirl, Dorothea."

"Of course, that's not what I meant at all."

Apparently unconvinced by this denial, the Emperor returned to her canvas for another thirty seconds or so of stony silence, Dorothea finally finding the courage to speak again. "I just mean that you've become so...reclusive and sullen." she confessed. "I know you've never been a social butterfly exactly, but I'm still concerned."

"Perhaps there's a reason for that." Edelgard replied, her brush stroke somewhat more violent than she'd intended. "I may be forced to swim among these predators in the capital, but I still have the common people- their appreciation is enough for me."

Dorothea winced inwardly. Not all of them, she forced herself to admit. After all, in the countryside of more than a few territories, Aegir and Hevring in particular, "the Beast" was a common moniker for the Emperor for a reason. "Still, I can't help but worry about your...health." she admitted. "Hubie...he worships the ground you walk on, so a part of me thinks he may not follow up on it as much as you may need."

"Is that...jealousy, I hear, Dorothea?"

Dorothea was taken aback. "No! I mean, who wouldn't be jealous of you?! You're smart, brave, fierce, determined, and absolutely gorgeous! No, I just wish you would take more time to look after your health- everything you have to deal with...it can't be easy on you."

Peeking out from behind the canvas, Edelgard scoffed in disbelief. "Really, I don't know what you're talking about, Dorothea." she lied boisterously. "I have a wonderful life. Scores of people would kill for my life."

"I know, I know! It's just-"

Edelgard's eyes narrowed into vaguely predatory slits. "Or maybe you would rather tell me what's really bothering you?"

 _"What else is it you think I've been doing for the past ten minutes?!"_ thought Dorothea irritably.

Setting aside the easel and striding over to her, Dorothea knew damned well that if she didn't muster up the courage to speak about this now, she may never get another chance. "I've been doing a lot of traveling, like you said earlier and-"

"And what?" inquired Edelgard dangerously.

"I've noticed some...things that the army has been getting up to. In Faerghus especially. I mean, surely, they're acting against your orders, but-"

"Unfortunate, but necessary sacrifices. As I said, the war is over. They are the ones needlessly prolonging the suffering of their peoples."

She did not fully appreciate it until she had a bit to decompress and reflect, but the sheer cold-bloodedness of the statement just inexplicably disturbed Dorothea. "It's starting to make me wonder..." she admitted. "Is all this- this fighting, this bloodshed- really worth it?"

By nature, Edelgard von Hresvelg was _not_ a happy woman, to say the very least. In fact, she had intentionally trained herself to wear a fairly neutral expression on almost every occasion. However, this time, her reaction was a genuine frown, her violet eyes looking slightly downward. By nature, she'd regarded resorting to such...animalistic measures to keep another soul at her side far beneath her dignity. However, the last time Edelgard was (very) tempted to use feminine charm to keep someone at her side and thought better of so doing, he ended up standing against her wielding the Sword of the Creator- twice. Besides, Dorothea was objectively a very beautiful woman and a part of her mind was seriously considering it. "Even you, Dorothea?" she inquired sadly. "You intend to leave me as well?"

"Oh, no, of course not, Edie." she half-lied. "It's just- all this violence, with no end in sight...there's got to be a better way. There just has to!"

Edelgard gave an exaggerated exhale. "Petra, I was not terribly surprised by. Ferdinand, I completely expected. Caspar was disappointing. Linhardt was a genuine loss with his mind. And Bernadetta completely surprised me. But you, Dorothea? I thought you of all people would have understood why this rotten system needs to be ripped out root and branch."

"And I do! Or, I did...but now...I'm not so sure."

"It's not easy, I'll give you that. But I- we're on the brink of creating something completely new. A good world."

Dorothea grimaced, recalling all of the atrocities committed she'd witnessed or heard tell of, quite a few certainly on the Emperor's orders. "How do you know it will be so good, Edie?"

"Because I know what is good. And so do you."

"What about everyone else? What about everyone who thinks they know what's good?"

Edelgard smiled, sweeping an intruding lock of hair from Dorothea's face. "That's the beauty of it, Dorothea." she said smugly. "They don't get to choose."

With that one statement, Dorothea realized what exactly was troubling her so greatly about her old friend's mindset- the one who she'd probably opened up to even more than the Professor- the sheer hubris of the statement. This woman truly believed that she would be an appropriate arbiter of good and evil in this new world of hers. She'd never witnessed it personally, but there was a very distinct sadistic note (as Linhardt noted) in how the Emperor disposed of her most hated enemies. Dorothea loved this woman, damnit; but she simply could not- _would_ not- trust her judgement any longer. "I have to go, Edie." she began. "I'm not Manuela- I've had far too much to drink."

Edelgard closed her eyes. "I see." she said grimly. "So you ARE leaving me too."

"No, I'm not! I'm really not! I just...need some time to think. That's all."

"Very well then. Take all the time you need. You have my word you're to be unmolested- even by Hubert."

"Your Majesty- no, Edelgard...thank you." 

Returning to her painting as Dorothea started to leave the study, Edelgard reflected on the makeup of her wrath's targets. Due in no small part to her work and the fact that the vast, vast majority of those who partook were men and perhaps due to the fact that she had never been close to her own mother at all, she had very few people of her own sex on that particular list of hers; three of them in fact. Of course, first and foremost was that beast- the green witch who she was sure had seduced her very favorite teacher (his actions made no sense otherwise!), followed by the uppity princess of Brigid who'd turned against her and killed plenty of her soldiers. Finally, there was Bernadetta, the weakling who'd repaid her kindness and "reforming" her father by opening her legs for Ferdinand and running off to aid him in his treasonous schemes. Of course, there could technically be a fourth added to this list.

"Backstabbing cunt!" she spat, tearing a hole in the canvas.

Peeking her head back in the doorway of the study, Dorothea gave the Emperor a confused glance.

"Did...I say that out loud?" asked Edelgard, a hint of embarrassment in her tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know- she's got actual development, is hot, and the Black Eagles' designated black mage, but I was just never that into Dorothea. Maybe it's partially because she's (especially at Garreg Mach) basically identical to Rose from Tales of Zestiria, but she never really...hooked me like she did a lot of people. That said, I still feel like I was being reasonably fair to her concerning her decision-making process and her breaking point with Edelgard. Or her methods, really.
> 
> Also the part with Dorothea bringing up Petra when Edelgard exploded at the mention of her: It was only unbecoming at first. It's appropriate because that's what was done to Vercingetorix, Julius Caesar's nemesis from Gaul. I've made that comparison before. Even went so far as to have "Et tu, Dorothe?" Same reasoning as burning the forest where Adrestian troops were ambushed and defeated back in the day.
> 
> Finally, for whatever reason, I noticed that I like to do this with people painting in fanfics, referring to actual paintings of which they would necessarily have no knowledge: In one of my other big works in the Fire Emblem fandom, I have a character painting a fresco literally depicting Link in the place of the Archangel Micheal, hoisting the Master Sword about to finish off Ganon. Why Edelgard would paint herself as Saint George against the dragon is no great mystery. Or why Ferdinand would be literally Judas; they both give you an insight into how she's seeing herself about now.
> 
> And it's kinda sorta exactly a breakup scene, seeing as I have Dorothea and Edelgard literally quoting one of the most (in)famous breakup scenes of the 21st century.


	7. Epilogue: Was It Something I Said?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wyvern Moon, 1185: Hubert reflects upon the last words Ionius IX as Edelgard realizes the truth of an old saying about appreciating what one has.

It simply would not have done to have his lady deal with the unpleasantness of a natural, inglorious death such as the one suffered by her father, Hubert thought. That is what Hubert thought when seeing to the final moments of Ionius IX. However, the last words he spoke on this earth would not, for whatever reason, cease ringing in his ears.

 _"Promise me, young Hubert...you will look after my daughter..."_ he begged weakly. _"A Hresvelg alone in the world...is a terrible thing..."_

A Hresvelg alone in the world, Hubert wondered. Granted, he had been rather busy with his new...duties, but he often found himself wondering something. Could he have prevented this had he kept a closer vigil over their erstwhile classmates? Could he have plugged the leak in this dam of defections had he simply made the rogue Aegir scion...disappear as soon as he'd opened his seditious mouth during Her Majesty's reign? He was positive he had at least ensured Bernadetta's loyalty- by "reforming" Duke Varley with gratuitous exposure to a cage of rats ( _"Um...the least pleasant thing of which I can conceive, Hubert?"_ ) around his head. No, what was done was done, he told himself. It was far too late to be having such thoughts, Hubert thought as he wandered the palace's halls early one morning, noticing one of the imperial guard's captains.

"Ladislava, there you are." spoke Hubert. "Have you seen Her Majesty? We've an important meeting with Lords Bergliez and Hevring within the hour."

The officer looked genuinely puzzled by Hubert's line of questioning. "To my knowledge, she's still in her chambers." confessed Ladislava. "I assumed she'd be awake by now- she always is."

"I see. Thank you."

The first thing that told Hubert something was wrong was this deviation in her morning routine. He'd no reason to fear the worst, especially seeing that the corridor leading up to her bedchambers were undisturbed and none of the guards reported anything amiss. Rapping his knuckles against the great oak doors, Hubert called for his lady. "Your Majesty, are you well?" he inquired. "Our meeting with Lords Janos and Sven awaits."

"I'm fine, Hubert." came Edelgard's voice, sounding vaguely less composed than usual. "Come in."

Perhaps rather unusually, the Emperor had a fireplace situated in her chambers, in front of which rested a comfortable armchair and end table. Most conspicuous however, was the painting hanging above said mantle- a piece she'd painted herself in the same style of portraits of the previous emperors and their consorts. While compelled by habit to praise her art (he'd seen far worse sell for far more), Hubert was genuinely disgusted at the identity of the "consort" depicted in the painting standing at Edelgard's side, his lime-green hair and eyes staring back at nothing. He truly did want to spit whenever he saw that man looking back at him.

Placing the book with which she'd apparently occupied herself on the end table, Edelgard rose from the seat. "I thank you for your concern, Hubert."

"Not at all, milady. I am simply doing my duty, as always."

The second red flag for Hubert was the presence of some opened container of some cosmetic or another ( _"I despise those concoctions. You could not torture me to put those on my body, let alone my face."_ ) resting upon the dressing table in the corner, to say nothing of its hasty, haphazard application. "Are you well, Lady Edelgard?" he inquired. "Ladislava noticed that you were not up and about for your morning routine, as well."

The Emperor shook her head. "Again, Hubert, I'm fine." she lied weakly. "I've never been better, in fact. I never think about them."

"Er, milady-?"

"No, I never think about them- not Petra, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta, or Dorothea- not about how terrified they must be like some scared, wounded animal or how disgusted with themselves or how blind or how prideful or how cowardly or even how tired of it all they must be. Not for one single moment-"

At that point, Edelgard did something, that ever since she was a girl, she'd sworn on her parents' graves, on her ancestors' graves, on her own life, that she would never again, ever do as long as she lived- she wept and wept deeply, immediately throwing herself into Hubert's breast. "They're gone...! They're all gone...!" she sobbed. "They're really gone...! Why...why..?!"

Now it all made sense, Hubert told himself. The seclusion, the interrupted routine, the hastily-applied cosmetic under her puffy, red eyes. For his lady's sake, Hubert remained silent, simply patting her on her back. "I c-can't believe it...! It's not fair...! It's not! It's simply not!"

"Oh, Lady Edelgard...I beg of you. Waste no more tears on those reprobates. If they cannot see your genius and your vision, that is their own grave loss."

Of course, this did little to stem the flood of tears streaming down Edelgard's cheeks. "Why?! What did I do?!" she sobbed. "Why did even THEY leave me?!"

As his liege continued to sob and wail, Hubert, while having his own suspicions (or, in the case of Linhardt, a signed letter-of-resignation of sorts) on the topic and as unsettling as he may have been, remained silent, unwilling to touch that fresh wound in the slightest, instead producing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and offering it to the Emperor, with which she began to stem the tide of tears running over her pale face. "I...apologize for that display, Hubert." she sniffled. "It was most unbecoming of someone of my station. Humiliating, even."

"Again, no apology is needed, Lady Edelgard." confirmed Hubert loyally. "In fact, it even reminds me of old times!"

Gazing wistfully at the portrait she'd placed atop her mantel, Edelgard became somewhat lost in thought. "Yes, those days were peaceful." she remarked contritely. "But it's as you always say, Hubert; what's done is done. We cannot turn back the hands of time. We cannot AFFORD to turn back the hands of time."

"Yes, that is correct, milady. From the day you made your choice, I resolved to walk the same path, no matter where it may lead. And I intend fully to see it through to its bitter end- or my own."

"Hubert..."

Hubert flashed something as close to a genuine smile of joy and admiration as he'd done in years. "I truly and genuinely believe that your path is our land- our world's- only hope, Lady Edelgard. You are the only one who can save this world, as far as I am concerned."

Resting her weary eyes in Hubert's breast once again, Edelgard inhaled deeply, trying to regain some composure. "Yes, thank you for keeping my path true, Hubert." she said. "The fact is that I have been chosen- by destiny, fate, our ancestors, humanity, or what have you- to save this world from its chains and those monsters. I cannot waver or run from that fact any longer. No matter who stands in my path. Even if it's-"

Edelgard again resting her head over her retainer's heart, Hubert, turned his attention to the portrait, his gaze one of pure, unadulterated hatred for the man standing beside his lady. As much as he may have wished it so, Hubert could not believe that man was dead- he was far too tenacious. Hubert swore that he could even _smell_ his presence somewhere on earth. He may not have had any use for the gods or faith, or even the afterlife in general. But with all the tears his actions, especially in his poisoning the hearts and minds of his students against her, had seen his lady shed- even before his disappearance- Hubert made a solemn vow: That he would personally create a hell, just for that man, and burn him with the hottest flames imaginable until not even ash remained.

"Hubert..." began Edelgard, an uncharacteristic trace of doubt in her voice. "After the meeting...I need you to prepare a carriage for me. Tell the driver I've something to attend to."

"Understood, Your Majesty." he confirmed dutifully. "I'd feel much better if I were to accompany you-"

"No need. The Imperial Guards will be in the area anyway. And do you find my strength lacking, Hubert?"

"Not in the slightest, milady!"

"Exactly my point. Besides, I need you and Ladislava to look after our 'guest' in my absence."

"Understood."

As she leered at the Sword of Seiros mounted on the wall behind Hubert's back, Edelgard, a prolific planner for the future, silently made plans for the short term in this instance as well; while she understood that a certain green witch made her best-case scenario extremely unlikely at best, a part of her could not help but hold out hope. Furthermore, it was little surprise that, for all their cooperation, the Emperor had little love for that cult of underground fanatics. Hell, she only knew of one other woman who hated them more than she. In fact, once she'd dealt with the Alliance, the Kingdom, the church and the beasts behind it and united the continent under her new order, she intended fully to destroy them utterly. The only one of these subterranean fanatics she'd ever had any use for was an old crone of theirs, Pythia, who delivered a "gift" for her fourteenth birthday.

Obviously, Edelgard was no great lover of prophecies or oracles or any related nonsense. Still, the crone's words somehow resonated with her- comforted her, even.

_"If the Lady of Hresvelg crosses the river Airmid, a new nation will rise and she shall destroy the hegemon of the land."_

This prediction was, not surprisingly, of great comfort to Edelgard. After all, even her bitter enemy-cum-tool was confident in the Empire's strength and her leadership abilities.


	8. Afterword: Unfulfilled at Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth's erstwhile students of the Black Eagle house fulfill their promise to reunite for the Millennium Festival- but not in the way any of them expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I wrote for my Silver Snow peeps (all ten or so of them, apparently) to go with Unfulfilled in the OST.

It had been a more-or-less constant refrain from those they had inquired about directions to the ruined monastery, as perhaps exemplified best by the last villager, a middle-aged man, to inquire to them about it:

_"Garreg Mach?"_ he inquired. _"Why the hell would you kids wanna go there? It's been abandoned for years now. You know how dangerous it is? Probably haunted, to boot."_

_"I assure you, we can more than take care of ourselves, sir."  
_

_"We have made a very important promise to someone beloved to us."_

_"Yes, this woman speaks the truth; my honor demands I see it through."_

_"Mine as well. Probably even more than his."_

_"The person we have to meet...they're the only one to whom we can turn to stop this bloodshed."_

_"Yeah! As long as we're together, we're not afraid of whatever's there!"_

The man shrugged. _"Alright. Just don't say I didn't warn you."_

* * *

Even for the reconnaissance units of the Imperial Army who were assigned to the general area, Garreg Mach, for a number of reasons, was not considered an attractive posting, to say the least. It was always a relief when they were headed south back to home- and unambiguously-friendly territory. Even if the men bringing up the rear had to endure the area a little longer.

_"Damn, I always hate coming 'round this place."_

_"I'll say! Bandit hive aside, Garreg Mach's always been haunted."_

_"You can't really believe that stuff, can you?"_

_"Why can't it be both? A haunted den of brigands."_

_"Come on! You guys really think we couldn't clear out these bandits if we really wanted to?"_

_"The brass doesn't want to waste the troops on the place. Can't really blame 'em, seeing they've got way bigger problems."_

Meanwhile, some other members of the unit were more concerned about very-important-persons that had absconded.

_"Hey, has anybody seen Her Majesty around?"_

_"No clue. Ain't her tent away from even the officers?"_

_"Yeah, but my buddy in the guards hasn't seen her anywhere for hours."_

_"Oh, man! General Randolph's gonna have our butts for this one!"_

* * *

"Oh, Edie..." remarked Dorothea sadly, gazing up at the stars. "What on earth have you done...?"

"It matters not." said Petra steelily. "As long as I have breath in my body, I will protect Brigid from her and the Empire."

Silently draping his cape around Bernadetta, Ferdinand nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Edelgard's cruelty and dishonorable deeds have both forced my hand." he replied.

"I may be afraid of a lot of things," admitted Bernadetta. "but the thought of her ruling the continent scares me more than all of them put together."

Gazing intensely into the fire, Caspar scowled. "Where does she get off, thinking she's so great anyway?" he seethed. "Like she thinks it's her destiny to rule Fódlan or something!"

"She's the imperial princess bearing the Crest of Flames who fell in love with a "professor" who also has that same crest and is probably the most powerful man to walk the earth." Linhardt reminded. "How could she _not_ believe in destiny?"

_ "I don't know, Caspar, Linhardt." _ came a very familiar voice. _"Why not ask her yourself?"_

Emerging from the treeline, the woman in red armor, while more saddened than displeased, maintained her steely disposition nonetheless, hand not even reaching for the sword sheathed on her belt.  


"Edelgard!" the hotheaded warrior exclaimed, leaping up to face her with axe in hand, his fellows joining him, alerted, but not quite ready for battle. "Come to settle this with us personally?! Without Hubert, even? That was pretty freaking stupid of you-"

Linhardt sighed. "Were she here to fight us, she'd have bought far more soldiers, and Petra and Ferdinand already confirmed them to be withdrawing from the area." he said tiredly. "In the future, Caspar, please do try to use your head for its intended purpose instead of blocking incoming blunt objects."

Edelgard smiled as nostalgia warmed her heart and mind. "A wit as sharp as your tongue as always, Linhardt." she commended. "That is correct; I wish to make you all one final offer of amnesty. Return with me to the Empire, and all your transgressions will be as though they never happened. Everything shall be as it was before. You have my word."

It was a vain hope- and one almost certain to be refused- but Edelgard still felt compelled, by some part or another, of her mind to offer. And the defiant body language from her erstwhile classmates and equally-defiant expressions made this clear- save for one.

"Edelgard- Edie, please!" begged Dorothea, on the brink of tears. "Stop this madness! End this war! You're the only one who can!"

"I'm sorry, Dorothea." she apologized. "But that is something I cannot do. My- this path is the only way to save this world from a brutal, unending night."

"No." said Bernadetta, any trace of fear or doubt long since expelled. "You've done wrong, Edelgard. You've been doing wrong- we all know it. You know it in your heart too. I was willing to overlook the awful things you've done as long as they didn't affect, or even benefited me- but no longer."

The Emperor was genuinely and visibly taken aback by Bernadetta's confidence. "Y-you've grown, Bernadetta." she complimented. "You've never spoken to me like that before!"  


Linhardt was the next to speak. "You once told me that it was your destiny to liberate the world from tyrants." he reminded. "Since I am a peace-loving man, it was a simple decision to decline your offer; what happens when you're done with Fódlan's 'tyrants?' In the same way you 'liberated' the people of half of Faerghus and the Alliance, what's to stop you from 'liberating' the people of Almyra or 'liberating' the people of Dagda? What's to stop you from going on and on, 'liberating' until the all the people of the world are 'free?' Under your benevolent guidance, I'm sure."

"Let us cross that bridge when we come to it, Linhardt." insisted Edelgard, less sure of herself than she would have liked. "Again, you have my word- this war is but a-"

"Your word!" interrupted Caspar indignantly. "What good is your word?! The same 'word' you gave that you wouldn't start slaughtering the defenders of Garreg Mach after they surrendered?! Or the same 'word' you gave and promised Mother that her childhood church friends wouldn't be burned alive in the coliseum for some imaginary crime?!"

"That was-" the Emperor replied, genuinely searching for an intellectual defense of that action.

"Caspar is right." Ferdinand stated solemnly. "You once told me that you would answer injustice with justice. But justice, while often stern, must be tempered with wisdom and mercy- that is the noble ideal. Not with terror and fear- that is nothing but barbarism."  


"Hm, it seems I've underestimated you, Ferdinand." she admitted. "It seems you do have a brain in that head of yours."

And speaking of those Edelgard had underestimated, Petra, perhaps searching for the correct words in the local parlance, spoke last. "Edelgard, you once told me to see you as elder sister of mine. Just like with the Empire and Brigid. But if I had a sister like you- thieving, robbing, slaving, torturing, killing- I would un-own her!"

Edelgard briefly closed her violet eyes in contemplation. "Very well. I see you've all made your choice." she admitted. "I see he's taught you all well; I spoke with him myself; our teacher is alive and well. He's fighting bandits in the monastery but- he needs you all."

Turning to walk up the path to join her soldiers, Edelgard knew damned well that was the most painful admission she had ever made in her life. Not for what it said, but what it _did not_ say. "He needs you all" _and not me..._ "Farewell, my friends." she said at last, her voice cracking somewhat as she processed these two great, final rejections. "The next time we meet, it will be on the field of battle. And know that when that day comes...for the sake of the new dawn...I won't hesitate to kill you all."

Edelgard disappearing back into the forested path, Linhardt held Caspar by his shoulder, as though verbally dissuading him from pursuing her. "Let her go." he insisted. "We've more important things to take care of."

For the first time in months, Dorothea gave a genuine smile. "Yes. We have to fulfill our promise to the Professor."

Ferdinand gave one of his old, confident smiles, even enlightening the face of the rather sullen Bernadetta. "Now then! Shall we join our teacher in dispatching these ruffians?"

The group murmured in general agreement as they took their first steps on that fateful journey. One that would see them, and their professor especially, immortalized in the pages of history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a ride this was! Hey, look at this fool over here, trying to do psychoanalysis of fictional characters! Much like her "mother" (of Dragons), while it's pretty clear that, while she knows what she's doing, it's also clear there's something...not quite right with Edelgard. Maybe it's just me taking too literally my dad's statement about if you actually want this level of power, for any reason, there's got to be something at least a LITTLE wrong with you. And this is my interpretation of that.
> 
> Now that I reflect on it, the Shakespeare references are very relevant, since exactly like Daenerys Targaryen, the Lady of Hresvelg is exactly a tragic character in the Shakespearean mold. In that someone of high standing is bought to the (ahem) apex of the world, but the seeds of their own destruction are ultimately sewn by their own internal conflicts and resulting actions; their fatal flaw(s). 
> 
> Again, not terribly uncommon in this series. However, it's Edelgard's exact combination of fatal flaw(s) that is relevant like Dany's: A need for a sense of closeness, belonging, and stability in a role that precludes such things, experiences, often traumatic and/or violent, which drive home the idea that security can only be gained through power (or fire and blood). And it's this same inclination toward sadistic violence, her wrath, and lust for power that eventually drive away those she'd come to (whether she'd admit it or not) rely on, accomplishing the exact thing she sought desperately to avoid. And of course, being so damned stubborn about it that she drives away the one person whose counsel, Jon/Jane Snow, that might (might!) temper her. 
> 
> FFS, I even take the classical Greece theme to it's logical conclusion and have one of the TWSITD bigshots give her Croesus' prophecy re: the Persians as a 14th birthday present. And you know how big they were about one thing being someone's downfall; our vocabulary word for the day, is "hubris," students.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Hresvelg Interviews](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031475) by [Sharyrazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade)




End file.
